


One Has a Plan, But Both Must Go

by Prochytes



Category: Marvel (Movies), Prometheus (2012), The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 04:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prochytes/pseuds/Prochytes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth meets another mother of monsters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Has a Plan, But Both Must Go

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Prometheus. Written to a prompt on the Prometheus Kink Meme on LJ in 2012. Title from a poem by Steven Moffat.

 

The sight of the helmet makes her stomach clench. But the design is different, exposing the pale face that gazes up at Elizabeth from beneath the horns. And, tall as the stranger shows himself to be, when he unfurls his full stature from the crouch, he is no Engineer. Elizabeth exhales, but does not blink.

 

“Who are you? And how did you just appear from out of nowhere?”

 

“The border guards of Nowhere are... inattentive. Such a beacon as this,” he gestures at the light of the engines with that strange staff, “dazzles their dull eyes, and yields an opening. The thanks of a god are yours, Dr. Shaw.”

 

“You’re not a god,” she says.

 

“And you walk the sceptic’s path a touch belated.” The tip of the staff taps on the cross between her breasts. “Still you bear the sigil of the carpenter’s son. He prattled of peace, and wore in recompense for that his father’s nails. How many of us must you meet, Elizabeth, before you own what godhead truly means?”

 

Her punch is fast and hard. He catches her wrist. 

 

“You are learning. Good. Rare, though, is Embla’s daughter that can land a blow on Loki of Asgard. You mourn your dead, Elizabeth. This much I allow. But let your intent be black as the Ginnungagap you cross, you are no Widow.”

 

She rubs her wrist, and looks at him with narrowed eyes. “Loki?”

 

“So they name me. You I name dust-dancer, rood-thrall,” the staff touches Elizabeth’s cross once more, before sinking to trace the scar across her stomach, “and mother of monsters.” 

 

“You don’t know me.”

 

“We share more than you might think. Do you know the tales the Aesir tell of me, Elizabeth Shaw? How I foaled eight-legged Sleipnir that they might not be constrained to honour a bargain?”

 

“I’ve read the stories. All they agree on is that you’re a liar.”

 

He smiles. “The tales try one’s credulity, do they not? They say it is my fate to captain Naglfar, the battle-barge that is wrought from dead men’s nails, even to the plains of Vígríðr. Stories for children.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And yet you stand in this ship of cast-off flesh, wanting a pilot.” He cocks his head on one side. “The Destroyers of Midgard’s make are sadly frail, are they not?”

 

She bites her lip. David slurred into silence a week ago.

 

“It seems our interests run together.” His smile widens. “You need answers. I need Ragnarök. “

 

“I don’t think you do.”

 

Now it is his eyes that narrow. “You speak without knowledge.”

 

“I’m an archaeologist, Loki. A – what was your phrase? – dust-dancer. I can read objects like a book. And this...” she leans forward, and taps his staff “.... this gives you away. Is it a club? Is it a sceptre? Does it strike down? Or does it rule? Now, a war-hammer...” she grins as his cheek twitches “... that’s clear on what it is. A war-hammer means a warrior, pure and simple. But after all these centuries, you still don’t know.”

 

He opens his mouth, and shuts it again.

 

“Sail me to Vígríðr, Loki of Asgard. We both need answers.”

 

FINIS

 


End file.
